


St. Joan's

by static_abyss



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of conversion therapy, Nile Freeman-centric, POV Nile Freeman, Past Internalized Homophobia, Religion, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25888741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/static_abyss/pseuds/static_abyss
Summary: This isn't one of their usual missions. Copley had mentioned it in passing, something about a Sleepy Hollow church that was running a conversion therapy camp under the guise of a church retreat."An annoyance, really," Copley had said. "Except they took a Mayor's daughter there last week, so we've been instructed to shut it down. Discreetly, of course. Can't have it look like the government is interfering in religious affairs.""We're not government," Nile had said before she'd been able to stop herself.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Nile Freeman, Nile Freeman/Jay
Comments: 10
Kudos: 140





	St. Joan's

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for [this prompt](https://the-old-guard.dreamwidth.org/5965.html?thread=27469#cmt27469) at [The Old Guard Comment Ficathon](https://the-old-guard.dreamwidth.org/5965.html). Please see the end notes for more detailed warnings.

"It's just a church," Andy had said when she'd told Nile exactly what she'd do to St. Joan's. "Not like it's worth a damn, if what Copley said is true."

The Church of St. Joan had stood for a hundred years, safely tucked away in between the sprawling mansions of Sleepy Hollow. Rich, well-to-do folk lived in their three-story homes, with their green lawns and their perfectly blond children. The kind of folks that used their money to cover the stench of their hate. People who would look twice, the second Nile and Joe stepped foot in their town.

There's a reason they're doing this in the dark, on a night with no moon. They're all in black. Quiet as can be, they spread out on either side of Webber Street, Andy walking down the middle of the road, swinging her arms as though she has nothing in the world to fear. 

This isn't one of their usual missions. Copely had mentioned it in passing when he'd gone to see them about a mission to Russia. Something about a Sleepy Hollow church that was running a conversion therapy camp under the guise of a church retreat. 

"An annoyance, really," Copley had said. "Except they took a Mayor's daughter there last week, so we've been instructed to shut it down. Discreetly, of course. Can't have it look like the government is interfering in religious affairs."

"We're not government," Nile had said before she'd been able to stop herself.

She'd felt Andy's eyes on her, could picture the way Booker was looking at her. They cared about her opinion, more than Nile had expected them to when she'd joined the team. She'd known that she wouldn't have to fight them to say yes to this. Still, she'd avoided their eyes until Nicky had said, calm as can be, "where is this church?"

When Nile had looked up, it was Joe who'd been looking at her. Joe and his sympathetic brown eyes, that firm, unhappy line to his mouth. She'd known he understood, and when Nicky had tried to ask her later, Joe had shaken his head and said, "let it go, Nicky."

Nile doesn't know what she feels as they head down the street, Booker watching her back, everyone else to her left. They pass the manicured lawns, the fall breeze blowing through the night. It smells like coming rain, the earthy scent of newly planted vegetables. She thinks of the biting frost of winter and laments the early demise of the gardens around her. She's never liked watching things die.

-

Church had always been beautiful voices raised together in songs, ever since Nile was five years old. It had been an opportunity to dress in her nicest dresses or her newest pants, and walk hand in hand with her parents to St. Michael's. She remembers the tall wooden doors that had opened to the crucified Jesus in the front. She remembers asking, with the innocence of a child, why they worshipped under a dead God.

"That's not God," her mother had always said. "That's His son."

"Human, like us," her father would say. "To teach us that even we can achieve great things."

-

St. Joan's stands three stories high, with four peaks that end in silver crosses. Its outside is brick of alternating shades of red and its stained glass windows have metal bars on the outside. Its door is stained black wood. The entire church is surrounded by a wrought-iron gate with a chain and a padlock, holding it closed at the front. 

"I always thought retreats were supposed to be optional," Booker says. 

"They are," Nicky says, as he starts circling the gate. 

"What are we going to do to it?" Joe asks.

Silence meets his question and it drags for long enough that Nile looks up at Andy. She expects to find her deep in thought and so, it's a surprise to find Andy watching her. 

"What?" Nile asks.

Andy raises an eyebrow and tilts her head towards the church. Nile blinks. Confused, she turns to Joe and finds him watching her also. 

"What are we going to do to it?" he asks again.

Nile looks back at the church, to the gates, where Booker is already pulling out a heavy pair of pliers from the bag he brought with him. Nicky's watching him work but his expression is distant and heavy. And Nile remembers that he's Catholic, too. 

She turns back to Joe, to the sympathy she sees there. She wonders what he's seen that makes it so easy for him to know her. She knows it's not the same kind of hurt, but a jagged cut whose end matches hers, nonetheless. 

"We burn it down," she says. 

-

After her father died, St. Michael's had been a balm over Nile's open wounds. In the sounds of the choir and the gathering of the congregation, she'd seen, for the first time, an escape from the pain that had lived in the center of her chest. When she'd cried, the church had gathered with her. They'd held her hand during the Our Father and the priest had blessed her family. 

There, among the pews, she'd felt the first stirrings of freedom, of healing, a thing so desperately needed that she'd hung on even after they'd buried her father. She'd close her eyes and listen to the combined voices singing to God, that melodic chanting as everyone held hands, a moment where she'd felt connected to something bigger than herself. If she needed help, she went to church and asked for guidance. And every time, she found what she was looking for, so, she believed.

-

It's simple, once Booker's undone the padlock at the front. Churches aren't meant to keep people out. 

Joe and Nicky go to clear out the rectory, to get the organizers out, the priest, to check the actual church. Booker and Andy head down to the basement, Andy's axe, already in her hand. Booker nods at Nile and she shakes her head, points to the little building off to the side of the church. That'll be where they keep the kids, separated by boys and girls, not knowing the things that a person can get up to at night when they're lonely. 

She makes her way slowly, the grass clumping under her boots. She remembers St. Michael's and the wide open space of its basement, how all the girls had spread out on the floor in their sleeping bags. She'd never told her mother about the church retreat, about the organizers who'd told them all lies to scare them. She'd been so afraid of burning in fire and of hell, of being consumed by ugly, disgusting thoughts, that she hadn't even noticed the girl who'd slept next to her for the three days they'd been there.

Niles remembers beautiful brown curls and skin so smooth, she'd thought the girl had been wearing makeup. They'd been seventeen, waiting for mass to start on the second day of their retreat, and the burgundy lipstick on the girl's lips had seemed to draw Nile in. She'd imagined running her fingers over the color to see what it'd look like on her skin and when the girl had offered her gum, Nile had taken it. She'd followed the girl around, entranced, wanting to be in her company and wanting her as far as she could get her. 

She'd been too afraid to ask for her name, too afraid to ask for her number when they'd finally gone home. All that weekend, Nile had glanced at the girl and looked away, and the crucifix at her neck had felt like it'd been choking her. 

She keeps going now, too old for the wounds to sting. It's been years since she's thought of that particular church retreat, of the girl with her burgundy lipstick. Since then, Nile's learned not to confuse the voice of the Church for the voice of reason. After all, the Church is made of people like her, so perhaps, God isn't in the rejection. 

She sighs as she opens the doors to the little building in front of her. These doors are made of metal but they're unlocked, as though the people inside aren't trapped. She steps inside, sees the woman keeping watch, asleep at her chair. Nile shakes her awake.

"The church is on fire," she says. " We have to get the kids out."

The woman stands up abruptly, her eyes wide as she looks around her. "Who are you?" she asks.

Nile shakes her head. "There's no time for that," she says. "Didn't you hear what I said? There's a gas leak and the church is on fire."

To her credit, the woman stands at once and heads deeper inside. Nile follows her, keeping an eye out for more people in the rooms they pass. There are a couple of empty offices before they come to a large open space divided in two by a low wall. The woman heads left and Nile takes the right. She passes through the doorway and comes face to face with a group of teenage girls, huddled together in the center of the room.

It's so easy to spot the two in the back, with their hands clasped together. They're murmuring in low voices when Nile walks in. The one on the right has dark skin and long braids. The one on the left has brown skin and black eyes, her mouth set in a thin line as she meets Nile's eyes. 

"Who are you?" she asks.

Nile doesn't know how to answer right away. She sees the two girls and thinks of Jay. They'd met in Basic, at the tail end of Nile's training, right before she got shipped off to Afghanistan. She remembers Jay's beautiful laugher and the soft press of her lips on Nile's cheek, how her hands had felt wrapped around Nile's shoulders, the slow kisses in the dark. She'd known then, that nothing that beautiful could ever be bad or vile or dirty. 

Nothing as innocent as what she sees in front of her now could ever be against what God wanted. She reaches for her neck on instinct, her fingers tangling in her chain. She thinks of Joe and Nicky. Of Andy.

Nile's caught the way her heart beats out of rhythm, sometimes, when she's distracted and her eyes wander over to Andy. That's how it starts, Nile knows, though she knows better than to throw her lot in with someone who can't be caught. She looks at Andy and sees in her eyes the heaviness of thousands of years, this sort of desperate look that screams for freedom. She sees the way Andy's come alive since she became mortal, the way she surrounds herself with all of them.

They all need love, in the end.

"The church is on fire," Nile tells the girls. "We have to leave."

There's no moment of hesitation as the girls stand. Some of them reach for their bags, already packed. The two girls in the back don't bother. They walk forward, away from the rows of beds, away from their things. Nile leads them out, meets up with the woman who was keeping watch. Nile takes the back, watches the way the two girls drift to stand with another group of boys, the way they all huddle close together. 

She thinks of her mother's smile, her soft expression when Nile had finally confessed, in between broken sobs, that she'd been in love with her best friend. The way her mom had kissed her cheek and had said, "you're the light of my life. And nothing you could ever do could make me stop loving you."

-

"I don't understand them, Nicky," Joe is saying when Nile's seen the children off on the bus Booker's driving. "You would think people would have stopped hating what they don't understand by now."

She's just rounding the corner to the front of the church and she can already see the smoke billowing out from the church basement. She stops as she hears Nicky's voice. 

"It's not like we were without faults, Joe," he says.

Joe's sigh is heavy and Nile understands the sounds of a person carrying more than they can bear. She imagines what life must have been like for him, the things he must have had to overcome to be able to love someone like Nicky. She knows enough about The Crusades to know that it must have been difficult. She knows enough about the Church to understand the weight behind Joe's words. 

"We were never like this," Joe says now. "No matter how much we had to learn."

Nicky's quiet for a moment and Nile thinks of her hundreds of prayers at night, the way she'd begged for absolution. How easily broken and fragile she'd been in the years before she'd forgiven herself the things she couldn't change. She thinks of Jay's warm mouth and of her mother's neverending support. She thinks of the group of frightened teenagers, sticking close together against a church whose voice sometimes sounds like reason. 

"You're right," Nicky says. "We were never like this."

Nile touches the crucifix on her neck and thinks of her father's low baritone as he sang church hymns. She thinks of his smile and the pride in his eyes when she did her First Communion. She wore navy blue in his honor during her Confirmation.

"Ready?"

Nile doesn't turn even as she feels Andy's hand on her shoulder. She nods, reaches up to her face to wipe her tears, discreetly. She tucks her crucifix into her shirt and moves forward, Andy watching her back. They round the corner and Joe and Nicky turn as one, falling into step as Andy shoos them out the wrought-iron gates.

"How long do we have?" Joe asks. 

Andy glances at her watch, then down the silent streets. "Ten minutes," she says, shrugging. 

"Andy," Nile says, caught by surprise.

She throws a glance at the brick building behind her, at the smoke gathering at the bottom. She thinks of the Virgin Mary, lifted on a cloud by angels. How easy it is to turn comforting things into a weighty void of judgment. 

"I think we should run," Nicky says, calmly. 

The crucifix hanging around Nile's throat feels heavy as she glances at the church once more. She doesn't know what she's supposed to feel. 

"Let's go," and this time, it's Joe's hand on her shoulder. 

He leads her away, Nicky and Andy falling into step around her. They head down the street, jogging the first minute, then flat out running. When they get to their car, Nile slips into the back, Nicky next to her. Joe's driving and Andy leans her chair as far back as she can without bumping into Nicky. They pick up Booker on the edge of Tarrytown. He left the bus with the people from the church parked in the center of town.

"Where to now, Boss?" he asks, slipping in next to Nile.

Andy makes a noncommittal noise and waves at Nile. Booker turns to her and Nile thinks of smoke and a singing choir. She sighs as they hear the beginning wails of a firetruck. 

"We have a mission in Russia, if I remember correctly," she says.

Andy smiles, her eyes closed, as she slouches down in her seat. "Yeah, we do," she says. "Yeah, we do."

And so, as one, they turn away from the sirens and the crumbling ruins of St. Joan's.

**Author's Note:**

> There's mention of religious conversion therapy, as well as mentions of past homophobic church views. Nothing is explicit and the fic doesn't dwell on the actual mechanisms or details involved. The religious conflict comes from Nile reconciling her feelings for the church and her memories of better times.


End file.
